THE JOURNAL POEM

 

 

There she stands in her purple dynasty.  Taunting this heart with true ecstasy.

I desire her true…I desire her dear.  Her movement drives a man to feel.

I yearn earnestly and endlessly to revel her with wine.  I burn furiously and doubtfully for that which to call mine.

With black hair, the darkness of night.  Purple lips to kiss.  Tis beauty in sight!

Brown skin, yet love radiates from within. Flooding my life in my uncomfortable den.

A reality from a mere spoken dream.  I often drink my coffee without the cream.

May not my love end with bitter waste.  For that mouth I long to taste.

A smile and I felt sin most vile. I seek love and not the latest color or style.

Her smile wraps me to encompass the gloom.  In her arms to almost welcome my doom.

She comes and goes as the winds that blow.  I long for her as my blood does flow.

There is gold and silver, yet I have none.  My weariness feels I have carried a ton.

I desire her gentle loving touch.  I can not live without a crutch.

Between empty death and fluid life.  I seek a cure for my lonely strife.

Forgive this soul, for it has traveled so far.  Be not another wound to another scar.

Longing for that name, with courage to ask. I promise to rid this ridiculous mask.

As if to contemplate, I anticipate a painful tear, then feeling reduced by an empty fear…that boils inside because I can not hide a love that is forever or never dear.

Be not fieriously hot or rigid cold.  Be the one someday, I cherish to hold.

Forget me never…for my love burns now and forever.

Cherish me, till heaven and earth do pass. Though our faces age within the glass.

I will sweetly sing and do bring…someday to you a golden ring.

As the rivers roll, into the ocean they will go.  As a faithful man reaps what his heart will sow.

Beauty is vain, yet the heart I will seek…within another to cherish and keep.

I saw her in the magazine section.  Her smile froze my heart, without objection.

With her eyes, I sensed anticipation.  I long for her love and not infatuation.

Her eyes spoke riddles to question…still.  As if my heart forgot how to feel.

She is within the heart, and she is in my mind. I long for her essence to someday find.

She stands in a purple field upon a hill.  Hopefully, my heart she has sought to fill.

Tears of my devotion pouring its endless potion. Upon your grapes to taste, my heart beats in times haste.

Gentle are you, for my soul would often sleep within the bitter rain at the dead of night. For your love I sought to keep before death comes to rid my sight.

Be the sweet whisper my soul desires to hear. My travel is in vain if love is not near.

Break the dam and flood my land!  For it thirsts a desiring hand.

Let my heart be with hers, I do pray.  And let it not be lost along the way.

A tender devotion, I long ever more. Let light shine within my very core.

I cry at nights which are cold and bitter. With one request that appears so little.

Upon my bed, I will lofty lay. Praying hope will shine this day!

Rid the voices that desturb my rest. Hold down the request of my flesh.

I long the touch of her gentle skin. Enough so not to heed taunting sin.

To someday love would be my delight.  I would cling upon it with all my might.

My pillow knows, it has tales to tell.  My floor knows, is where my knees fell.

Around her neck lies a purple lace. Her smile shines in an innocent grace.

There she stands still, in her purple attire. Is this love or a fools mad desire?

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